30. Rory
Rory
Nate holds my gaze, and the world fades to just the two of us.
I know he’s willing to take on anything with me, that I can lean on him, let him be the solid one to hold me up for a while.
But as I’m almost ready to let myself borrow some of his confidence, there’s a flicker of something else behind his eyes.
It fades so fast I wonder if I imagined it, and the heat of his breath warming my skin pulls my focus to the electricity crackling between us. I dart my tongue out to wet my lips.
Then jump as Spam’s high-pitched bark breaks through the spell.
“Is someone else coming?” I ask. I glance toward the bedroom door, wondering what else Nate has up his sleeve.
Spam barks again from downstairs.
Nate shakes his head. “Not that I know of. I just brought Lawton, Stacey, and Allie. But you never know around here. There are a lot of people who care about your family. Why don’t you go see who it is?”
“I’m sure Dylan will get it.”
“Oh. Well, I sent Lawton to take Dylan to Church Bar. I figured he needed a drink. Think your dad might have gone with them, too.”
A knock sounds at the front door, probably for the second time.
“I’m coming!” Mom calls out softly.
The word spurs us into action.
“No!” Nate and I exclaim at the same time.
We race downstairs. The last thing we need is Mom getting hurt trying to open the door.
“It’s fine, Mom. I’ve got it,” I say as we reach the bottom of the stairs.
“You people think I’m some kind of invalid,” she grumbles as she sits back down. “I’m fine.”
I don’t point out her shaking hands or the flash of pain that crosses her face.
“I know. But we’re here, so we might as well get the door for you.” Nate nods to me as he heads for the door, and I sit on the sofa next to Mom.
“Are you hungry? I can make a sandwich or something,” I offer.
“I got some protein shakes, too,” Nate says over his shoulder.
Once again, I’m surprised by his thoughtfulness. Mom hasn’t been eating as much recently, and I assumed that maybe she just wasn’t hungry, but it didn’t occur to me that maybe it was a struggle for her.
“Oh, that sounds good. I’ll have one of those,” Mom says.
I head to the kitchen to grab one. As I turn away from the refrigerator with a strawberry shake in hand, Nate joins me in the kitchen, a bouquet in his hand.
“Allie’s sister sent these. I had the same idea, so now we have plenty of flowers.” He nods to the island, where a second bouquet of roses and lilies sits in a vase.
That was so sweet of Lexie. I was never as close with Allie’s twin as I am with Allie—she was a soccer star and ran with the sporty crowd. Kind of the polar opposite of us. But it’s nice of her to show she’s thinking of us, even if she can’t be here in town.
I take the bouquet from Nate and hold out the protein shake. “I can put these in water. Can you take this to Mom?”
He takes the plastic bottle from me with a nod. He turns toward the living room but hesitates, then he turns back toward me and plants a soft kiss on my cheek.
“We’re in this together, Rory,” he says.
The warmth of his sentiment follows me as I carry the flowers into the kitchen. I cut the stems and add them, one by one, to a vase.
My favorite part of the bouquet is a purple flower. It’s unfamiliar to me, but it’s featured heavily in this bouquet. It’s more of a stem with a bunch of purple flowers dotted along the length of it.
At first, I’m not sure how to fit it in the arrangement, but I tuck it along the edges of the vase, and it looks pretty nice, if I do say so myself.
I know, logically, that the flower arrangement doesn’t matter, not really. But I want things to be as close to perfect as they can be for Mom.
I slip the final stem into the vase and nod. Good. Not perfect, but from one angle, it’ll be beautiful.
I gather the discarded cuttings and wrapping bits and toss them in the trash.
“What do you think, Mom?” I ask, carrying the vase into the living room.
“Gorgeous.”
I set the vase on the table next to the TV. There’s plenty of light, and the flowers will be on display from almost anywhere in the room. I turn it so the best side is facing the room.
Footsteps on the steps behind me catch my attention—soft and measured, like they’re trying to be quiet but not doing a great job.
“I’m awake. You can talk,” Mom says.
She smiles.
It reminds me of when I was young, and Allie would sleep over. One time we woke up early, and the house was quiet. We tiptoed down the stairs, our sights set on having a helping of Lucky Charms before my parents woke up.
But when we walked into the kitchen, Mom was there, sipping her coffee in the dim light of the sunrise, and she smiled just like she is now.
“Okay. Good.” Allie breathes a sigh of relief and walks down the last few stairs at a normal pace. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m doing okay, sweetheart.” Mom takes a small sip of her protein shake. “I have some lovely flowers to look at, and everyone is happy. What more could I want?”
“Well, we were thinking you might want some fudge.”
Mom’s eyes widen, and I kick myself for not even thinking of this.
The chocolate shop in Vail has been Mom’s favorite since I was a kid. We’d make the drive there a few times a year. She always claimed the fudge there was unmatched, and so far, I haven’t found any that disproves her claim.
But since she’s gotten sick, I hadn’t even thought about heading there to pick up a treat for her.
“That sounds wonderful. I don’t know that I’d be up for the drive, though.” Mom’s expression is wistful, like she’s imagining some long-lost love.
Allie has a matching expression. The two of them are the biggest chocolate addicts I know. “I don’t mind driving over there and picking some up.”
Nate clears his throat. “The pass is icy, Allie. I’m not sure you want to chance it in a rental.”
“It’s a four-wheel drive.” Allie sets her hands on her hips.
“How about this? I can drive. We can all head over there and pick out some really amazing options for Cathy. Rory, you could use some time out of the house, right?”
I bite my lip, torn, and look between Mom and Nate.
“You can go,” Mom says gently.
But as she speaks, I know what I need.
“I’m going to stay here with Mom. Just the two of us. Is that okay?”
Nate nods, standing up. “Of course. We’re here for whatever you need. Both of you.” He jerks his head toward the door, looking at Allie and Stacey. “Shall we, ladies? The chocolate awaits.”
“Okay. Back soon, Rory,” Allie says.
She and Stacey both give me strong hugs on their way to the door, where they pull on boots and coats and hats.
Nate wraps his arms around me. “Call me if you need anything, babe,” he says, murmuring in my ear. “Anything at all.”
He grips my cheeks with his hands and pulls me close for a long kiss. When we part, I’m dizzy enough that I almost block out the “awww” from my friends.
“Love you, babe. Be back soon.” One more kiss and he heads for the door.
A blast of icy wind rolls into the room as they open the door and scurry out, but it’s gone as soon as the door slams shut, along with Allie and Stacey’s giggles.
A fire on TV isn’t exactly heat, but it adds a certain feeling of warmth to the room, especially when I’m holding a steaming mug of cocoa. The logs on the screen crackle as Mom and I laugh together, remembering the way I used to pronounce orange and apple (“na-na” and “la-la”).
“Every morning. You’d bang your little sippy cup on the table and demand na-na gee or la-la gee.”
I do remember my words for orange juice and apple juice, but largely because they became family jokes. Dad mentioned heading to the store for na-na gee a few months ago.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I’ve taken to wearing sweatpants and ponytails almost every day when I’m not at the barn. “What about Dylan? Did he have any funny things he said?”
Mom takes a sip of her protein shake. “Not really. What was funny about him was that he was always such a serious kid. Personality is evident young, and even though we all grow, there are some parts that never really change.”
She sips again, lost in the past. “He was quiet, but when he spoke, he pronounced everything right and would say things you wouldn’t expect from a kid. When he was three, I told him to pick up his toys, and he said, clear as day, ‘I’m not having this conversation!’”
I snort with laughter. I’ve seen pictures of Dylan at this age, with chubby cheeks and messy hair. Imagining him coming out with such an adult phrase is so incongruous with those pictures.
“He’s still serious.” Especially lately. I thought it was everything with Mom, but I wonder sometimes.
I don’t think he’s been in a relationship in a long time. But then, Dylan keeps a lot to himself.
“Rory?” Mom’s voice has changed. It’s quieter, but there’s an urgency to it.
I look up from the mug of hot chocolate I’m gripping at chest level, the steam wafting into my face. “Yeah?”
“I’m proud of you.”
The words are soft, but they pierce right through me. Tears spring to my eyes.
“I just want you to know that. I’ve always been proud of you. I know you’ve felt like you had to measure up to Dylan somehow. But you’re my Rory. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be your own person, to find the path that would make you happy and fulfilled.”
My chest squeezes. A tear escapes from the corner of my eye and slips down my cheek. I swipe at the spot it lands on my chin.
Mom studies me, her gaze intent. “I’m proud of you for finding that path, Rory.
Whatever happens in the future, know that I’ll always be proud.
And I’ll always support you.” She leans back in her chair, exhausted with effort.
“Seeing you like this is one of the happiest moments of my life. You’re doing a job you love.
You’re surrounded by friends. And you have a man who loves you more than you’ll ever know. ”
She pauses, and I wait for her to continue.
But seconds go by, and then minutes, and I realize her eyes have drifted closed.
My heart pounds in my chest as anxiety rises in me. Is she…
But as I watch, she takes a breath, then another. I mirror the slow, rhythmic breathing of her sleep with my own deep breaths.
In and out.
Mom is still here.
For now.
But I don’t know how long we have left.